


A Change of Heart

by disenchantedwing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Auror Harry Potter, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Post-Canon, Romance, Tension, mostly canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disenchantedwing/pseuds/disenchantedwing
Summary: Ever elusive, a restlessness starts to stir in Harry, and while his life already isn't really where he wants it to be, it's about to get far worse. Ron and Hermione might get back together again, and this time, for some strange reason, Harry finds himself feeling desperate to prevent it at all costs.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 26
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first hp fanfic ever, and I'm so glad I decided to. I started writing a couple months ago, on a separate account for my dc works, but I wanted to try my hand at a little hhr. I've read countless hhr fanfics over the years, and so I'm sure you can see that I write to project my own type pretty heavily (I am very indulgent oops). I also do that with my art haha, which if you are from the HHR discord or online community, you might recognize me from - I am disgruntledwing. I'll link my socials at the end if you are interested at all !
> 
> I have a pretty good idea as to where this story is going, and it's so different from what I normally write, that I feel myself growing as a writer every scene. I hope there are few mistakes; I am researching a fair amount to make it canon compliant because it's been a little bit, but I am far from perfect. as always, I really hope you enjoy and I adore comments :,) my favorite part of writing is interacting with people and talking on and on about the couple, in this case hhr, it's like a straight shot of inspo! even if I just write this into the void, I am glad to do so. anyways, on w the story!

Soaring ceilings lined with gold, green, and blue shades twinkled in the light, hanging overhead the swarming floor, and more often than not, emerald eyes wandered up to count the familiar patterns. The ceilings slanted down towards large gargoyles, one at each corner of the colossal room, and their foreboding figures had always been strangely comforting. The bustling room was divided into cells of various offices, the bright semi-transparent glass sectoring the room by rank. The tall marble beams sloped down into a black agate floor that always looked shiny even though it had cause to be particularly dirty. More often than not, Harry’s desk was swamped with cases, and today was no exception. But he found his eyes lifting upwards more and more as the days went on, and the feeling of restlessness that he had hoped would take leave, hadn’t. 

“Auror Potter?” 

Harry snapped his head back, eyes landing on a shy Auor that if he remembered correctly, was very new. She looked down at him, clearly affected by having all of Harry’s attention, and Harry cringed. _Ah, yes._ This Auror was not exceptionally good at hiding her... _affections_ for Harry, and it proved to be difficult orienting around her. She was pretty, with straight blonde hair that never seemed out of place, her form lithe but curvy. She had blue gray eyes and full lips, looking distantly like some Veela once removed or some such. She _was_ attractive, but Harry could never bring himself to follow through on any pursuits. He wasn’t inclined to spend all his nights alone if the mood struck him, but inviting someone he knew wasn’t _the_ _one_ wasn’t really what he wanted in his heart. Harry shifted in his chair, crossing one leg, refusing to let his gaze drop to her figure. _Self-control is a virtue,_ a voice eerily like Hermione’s chastised him.

The Auror watched him intensely, involuntarily stepping closer still. Harry wore black slacks, a white button up, and his dark blue Auror coat laid haphazardly behind him. His collar shirt was buttoned up to his elbow, and dark arm hair trailed down to a sleek silver watch Hermione had gotten him for Christmas. The girl’s eyes trailed up Harry’s arm, caught on how lean muscles moved smoothly under his shirt, her breath coming short. Harry wracked his brain, trying to recall her damn name. 

“Auror Grayson. But you can call me Diana.” Diana supplied, coming closer. She looked down hopefully, a flush on her cheeks. _Damn it._ “Ah, thank you, your name was just on the tip of my tongue,” Harry lied. “What’s up?”

She beamed, and Harry leaned back in his chair, hoping to move on to more consequential things. “Oh, well, I was just sent to deliver a message.” She admitted, now disenchanted with the small task. “Counselor Granger wanted to let you know that she would be late to lunch, but to go on without her. I just caught her in the lobby.” 

Harry frowned. Getting to have lunch with Hermione always helped when he was having one of _these_ days, but he couldn’t say he was that surprised. She was awfully busy, and despite her best wishes, time often escaped her. _Hey, she didn’t cancel._ Which was all that really mattered, because Harry was sure he would go mad if he sat behind that desk trapped in his head any longer. Bringing back lunch to the department never worked out that well - then he was a sitting duck for all the many Dianas of the Auror department to flock towards him for needless tasks that really just meant they could look at him up close, and Harry ended up trying to find a polite way to finish a ten-second conversation a million times. Going out alone for lunch was better, but it wasn’t that much better. More people approached the Chosen One when he was alone; Hermione had told him before that he was too nice for his own good. Far fewer people approached him with Hermione hanging on his arm. 

“I see. Thank you for that Au-” Diana’s face fell. “- Diana.” Harry amended, turning back to his desk. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course!” Diana exclaimed. “Let me know if you need anything else, sir. I’m here for anything you want.” She promised fervently, and Harry knew she was telling the truth. 

He noticed her fitful fingers on his desk in his peripheral, but he withheld rolling his eyes. People like Diana made it painfully obvious that the world never really saw him for him. Harry was never very fond of attention, quite the opposite, but it just seemed as if he pulled everyone’s eyes in every room he stepped in. It only worsened after the war, and it was almost like some terrible magic, binding everyone to him, because no matter how hard he tried to stay on the sidelines, someone shifted the game so he was in the center. He had already had his misgivings going into the Auror department, fearing that nobody would see _him_ and rather just praise every little thing he did. But, it wasn’t really like he could see himself doing anything else, and it was...better now than it used to be. Initially, he had been offered a very quick apprenticeship to the Head Auror immediately, but he had to be very persistent in his desire to go through training like any other trainee. It had been three years since he started, and even though he was right under the Head Auror, it was better than what the department had wanted him to do. 

“Excellent. Thank you very much.” Harry repeated, ducking his head to finally take in all the cases he had lined up. He waited until she finally left to relax. There were a lot of cases, but he wasn’t necessarily allotted all of them. He would sort through the files, appointing certain ones to Aurors under him, while taking the more difficult ones. There had been some very dark ones he took on, usually following up on any hidden Death Eaters, but there had been a nice lull for a couple months. It really was quite nice, all things considered, the setup he had. But it didn’t matter when he caught this restlessness - very few things helped. Emerald eyes slotted towards the clock. _11:36._ Harry scowled. Grabbing his quil, Harry set to starting to read through the ugly pile, counting the seconds down until he could go meet Hermione. 

\--- 

Taking a quick swig of butterbeer, Harry looked out at the sparkling river, enjoying a rare day of true sunshine in London. The breeze helped clear his mind, and already Harry felt better. He was at The Dark Raven, a little cafe Hermione had shown him the year prior, and he had grown very fond of the place. Not only did it have excellent food, but the owner was a small old lady who didn’t care much about the Boy Who Lived; to Harry, that was very nice indeed. It had become a frequent place for Harry and Hermione to meet at lunch, and recently Harry relied on seeing her probably more than he should. Outside of Auror work, he did very little, and Grimmauld Place felt lonelier every night. He saw Ron fairly often, but they had very different schedules; Ron owned Weaseleys’ Wizards Wheezes with George, and proved to be more busy than they had initially thought. Once in a blue moon Harry would see other friends, but rarely did he have any rampant desire to see them, and even rarer did he pursue it. It wasn’t even really _them_ that was the problem, because they hadn’t changed at all. _It’s me._ He mostly laid around at home when he was free, mind far off, and an awful restlessness that just never seemed to go away. It was annoyingly simple, so different from the normal colossal and vile problems in his fucked up life. But now...now his life had become rather routine, and it felt like there was something _more_ he should be able to tap into, but like a Snitch, it was hidden to him, teasing him just as soon as he thought he closed his hand over it. He hadn’t talked about it with Hermione yet, but he figured she might be of some help. It was starting to suffocate him, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake it. _She’ll know._ Hermione did, after all, always have the answer. 

“Harry!” 

Hermione’s voice sounded behind him, and he twisted, standing up in greeting. “Ah, then Counselor Granger has elected to grace me with her presence.” Harry grinned, taking in a breathless Hermione. She wore a navy blue blazer, white blouse peeking out, with black slacks and black pumps. Her hair was a beautiful shade of warm browns in the light, all curls smoothed from using Sleekeazy’s hair potion, and Harry noticed an almost imperceptible burgundy color on her lips. _A makeup day._ Hermione shook her head, amused, before stepping forward and tilting her head up expectantly. Harry leaned down, kissing her on the cheek, breathing in the soothing violet scent that was his best friend. Pulling back, Harry made to pull her chair out for her, but she beat him to it with a smirk. The interaction felt so familiar that Harry relaxed, suddenly forgetting why it had been such a piss poor day. 

“Yes, well not _all_ of us can get off work whenever.” Hermione muttered, grabbing the menu. 

Harry snorted, leaning back into his chair, considering her. “Whenever? My, my, you think so low of me. I cannot just leave _whenever._ Not my fault you cram in more meetings than humanly possible. I’m just a little more realistic with my attention span.” 

“Miniscule is the word, I believe. I scheduled a meeting with the Minister at ten, but we always talk too long, so I kept my 11:30 waiting. I asked Grayson to tell you. She did, right?” Hermione asked distantly, interested in what she was planning on ordering. 

“She did, yes.” Harry nodded, remembering how painful the interaction was. He drank his butterbeer again, and rearranged his cutlery, wondering why Hermione looked at the menu every time when she always got the same thing. 

“Why are you so quiet?” 

Harry tilted his head, confused, and Hermione’s calculating brown eyes pinned him. “Hmm. Is she the one who’s head over heels in love with you? _One_ , what am I talking about.” Hermione scoffed, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I apologize. I’m finding it a little difficult to find someone who _isn’t_ these days. I had hoped it stayed in your department, but last time you visited you had my secretary asking to schedule you in again. Honestly! Vultures.” Hermione grumbled, putting the menu down and looking for the owner. Other restaurants in wizarding London did not rely on such medieval practices like waitressing, but the owner had taken a special fondness to Hermione and always tried to take their order personally. 

Just before Harry was about to refute Hermione’s words, the old woman appeared to his right, brushing by him and smiling at Hermione. 

“Hello, dearie. What can I get you?” The old woman asked sweetly, her unpleasant face pulled back kindly. 

_A garden salad with a side of today’s soup. No walnuts._

“Hmm, let’s see here. How about a garden salad, no walnuts, and today’s soup?” Hermione asked, unaware of the way Harry mouthed her order at the same time. That was the only time Harry could make the old woman smile at him, but he would take what he could get. 

“Sounds lovely, darling.” 

“And I’d like the -” 

The old woman frowned, looking back at Harry. “I already know what you want. Patience is a virtue, you would do well to learn it.” She sniped, turning back to the kitchens. Harry shook his head in exasperation while Hermione laughed lightly.

“I can never win.” Harry complained, his mouth pulled into a slow smile. 

“No, I suppose not. At least she likes you more than she likes Ron. Remember when we brought him here and he spilled all of his butterbeer on her shoes?” 

Harry laughed, knowing that he was only the most unpopular one whenever Ron didn’t come. He remembered how bloody _mean_ the old woman had looked at Ron, like she was going to hex him a million times before killing him. “Ah, damn. I do! He was so afraid, blabbering apologies, spilling even more, while she hissed at him. Brilliant time, that. If you didn’t step in, I don’t reckon Ron would’ve come home in one piece.” 

“He was rather sore about it, even though it was his own fault. I never heard the end of it. So odd that he hasn’t wanted to come back.” Hermione grinned fondly, eyes looking off to the water. After a beat, she looked up at Harry, all attention devoted to him, and Harry tried not to smile. He had come to secretly like when she dropped everything to hear what he had to say. No one else in his life quite made it clear that they were only paying attention to him, and it was nice to be taken care of every once in a while. _Or a lot._ _Details, details._

“Hey. How are you doing, really? You seem more excited than normal to be here. I know I’m charming to be around, but I feel like something else is up. One might say I feel it in the air.” Hermione smiled, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

_Hm, that was quick._ Harry shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, always surprised at how well she could read him when he had thought he had been holding his cards close. He did secretly like having all of her attention, but less so when she was hunting for certain information he wasn’t ready to part with _just_ yet. “Bloody hell, woman. Do you ever get tired of being right? I haven’t even said anything yet!” 

Hermione leaned forward, considering him. She bit a nail mindlessly, and Harry briefly caught himself tracing her delicate finger. “Don’t be silly. I know you better than anyone. Now, spill.” 

Harry looked back at her affectionately, amused at the way Hermione’s body had already turned aggressive across the table, bent on finding out whatever was going on. _Bloody smart woman._ Hermione nodded, as if to say _I know, so just hurry up,_ and Harry tried to think about how he could put it into words. 

“Well. I feel...very restless. Even though I am quite busy. It’s like I’m missing something, and my chance is slipping away, or something of that nature. I’ve felt it on and off for weeks, but now, it feels _looming._ I can’t focus. It’s like I’m missing something I don’t even know I have.” Harry finally said, his rough voice softer with the admission. 

Hermione contemplated his words, her mouth twisting like it always did when she was thinking. The white sun illuminated her hair, making brown strands golden, and the barest reflection of sunlight off Harry’s glass made Hermione’s eyes look like honey. “I see. Well, you’re not tethered down at all, not really. You’ve got this new shiny job, but it’s been a little bit and now I think you need something a little more. You’ve always wanted simple things, and sometimes you’re not very good at asking for them. In fact, you’re appalling at it, love. How was - have you talked to Ginny at all recently?” Hermione asked delicately. 

Harry frowned, disliking how _right_ it all sounded coming from Hermione’s mouth. “Er, no. We haven’t since...well it’s been awhile.” Harry said wearily. Ginny was a whole...well that was a whole nightmare he hadn’t thought about in a while. Not because of her, per se, but the mention left a sour taste in his mouth. He and Ginny proved to have an...interesting journey. She continued to pursue him following the Battle, but something tugged Harry back from saying yes to everything. She wanted to get married immediately, and it wasn’t really even like Harry _didn’t_ want to, he just felt whatever they had wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t sure what it was tugging him back, because he _did_ love her. She was everything he should want - gorgeous, brave, loyal, and she _loved_ him. She loved him more than anything, and he had to admit, many days that was something he would hoard in a secret place in his heart. That he was _loved_ and _wanted_ and _needed,_ more important than anything else. Was that not what he wanted? _It is._ So they started dating, and it had been mostly lovely. Late nights filled with sex, warm smiles, and slow dancing, but now that he was out of it, it almost felt like a dream. As if it was far away, a different Harry, but he didn’t devote a lot of time pondering any of it, especially the less than favorable parts. That would lead him nowhere. _Needn’t do that._

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry. Still? You’ve been notably limited on giving me the details on that front. I can’t really help if you don’t _tell_ me what happened between you two!” Hermione insisted irritably. Harry had never hidden anything from her before except why he and Ginny ended, and it always was a cause for tension. But it was for the best.

Harry shook his head, hand waving dismissively. “It isn’t anything you need to worry your pretty head over. It’s not important. But no, I haven’t talked to her. Not to say she hasn’t tried.” Harry muttered. Endless unwanted memories came rushing back, and Harry felt his skin prickle uncomfortably. He didn’t want to think about all that anymore; he knew if he let himself dwell, his blood would boil. 

Hermione scowled, miffed still. “Well, have you been with anyone else?” She demanded. For some reason, it felt almost validating to say that he hadn’t. Like he was reporting good news, or impressing upon her his unfaltering loyalty, but that would be odd, right? He knew Hermione cared little for casual hookup culture, so perhaps it was just that he didn’t want to disappoint her. _That sounds right._

“No, I have not.” Harry answered quietly, emerald eyes looking back. He knew he shouldn’t enjoy so much the way he could feel Hermione’s hard gaze softening, but it proved to be better for his health and happiness to stay on the right side of the brightest witch of their age. 

Hermione relaxed, shifting back in her chair. “Hm. Well, my best guess is that you want to settle down, start a family, that kind of thing. You’re only twenty-three though, Harry.”

“My parents had me when they were twenty.” Harry said briskly, his jaw hardening. Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Men! I could say one wrong word and you’re already off with that temper. I am not saying you can’t, love. I’m just saying that you have a _lot_ of time ahead of you, and maybe you’re stressing out about finding the one but you just need to relax. You’ll find her when you’re ready.” Hermione finished softly. 

Harry scratched at his stubble, lost in thought. “Hmm. Well, I’m sure you’re right. I don’t really know what to do about all that. Even if I wanted to meet someone new, there’s a sea of bloody birds I’d drown in before I find one that doesn’t worship my damn feet and get off on my scar.” Harry growled, his fingers going up mindlessly to touch his temple. His raven hair was unruly as it had ever been, but his scar, a striking line of white and dark red, always managed to peek through. 

“Worship is well-practiced in the bedroom, Harry. Sounds pretty vanilla of you to shame such indulgences.” Hermione smirked playfully, her eyes shining. Harry laughed. “Oh, says _you_? That sounds like pot and kettle there.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Hermione winked, and Harry’s face fell, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. She looked down, finally putting her coat on the next chair over, settling in comfortably. _What?_ Harry felt winded at the foreign idea, thinking about Hermione indulging in such lewd fantasies. Not because he didn’t think she _could_ \- he had every belief she could do whatever she wanted, there was no stopping that woman, and she was very beautiful, but still...He had never thought to disgrace her with such thoughts, it felt a poor way to revere her. So _why_ was it so unsettling to imagine her having sexual experience? Suddenly, the urge to put her on the spotlight of her recent history rared up, and Harry ignored his new crisis. 

“And you? Who have you been up to?” Harry’s low baritone startled Hermione, who looked up in surprise. 

“Me? Oh, no one recently. Not since Ron. Who actually...well, never mind.” Hermione trailed off, finding the table incredibly interesting. Harry stared at her, aware of the few seconds of vulnerability that were ending soon. 

“But he what?” Harry pressed compellingly. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her eyes avoiding him. 

“Nothing, really. It isn’t a big deal. He just asked if we wanted to get back together, that’s all. Our food is taking awhile, maybe I should go check to see if everything’s fine back there.” Hermione mumbled, her face flushing. 

_Back together._ The words echoed in Harry’s head, and he wasn’t sure why his stomach seemed to drop down to his shoes. He just saw Ron, not what, two, three days ago? Why hadn’t he said anything? _Didn’t think that was important to mention, you bloody git?_ It wasn’t like Ron had ever offered much information about Hermione before, even when they dated, but usually Harry didn’t mind because he could just talk to Hermione directly. Harry didn’t understand why it felt so different now, because he felt _ill._

“Back together?!” Harry echoed in disbelief. “What? Since when? Again?” His hands spread out dramatically, long fingers mapping out the table, and Hermione’s gaze caught on them briefly. 

After a moment, Hermione seemed to make up her mind about something, and she glared back, irritation written all over her face. “Yes, back together. I haven’t said yes to it, in case you forgot to ask me. I’m thinking about it.” 

Something wicked tore through Harry, but he chalked it up to being on the outs of such important info - that didn’t seem like it would have made its way to him unless he said something. “What is there to think about? You said you two just don’t work out. Seems like there’s nothing more to think about.” 

Hermione stiffened, her face heating up. “Watch your tone _,_ Harry James Potter. You’re not the _only_ one who wants to settle down, okay? Not everything I do has to be run by you. And it’s _Ron._ Not some bloke down the street.” Hermione hissed, her hair looking decidedly more frazzled than it was when he first saw her. 

“But -” Harry fell silent. He didn’t know what to say to that. Because she was right. It just...felt _wrong._ Like _really_ wrong. But that didn’t make sense, because he hadn’t ever reacted so poorly when they dated. Ron and Hermione had always been very sparing with their romantic affections, and most of the time, Harry hadn’t even noticed they were technically dating. Most of the time overlapped with when he was Ginny anyways, and since Ginny was very public with her affections, he guessed he had never had time to consider why Ron and Hermione weren’t. He supposed a lot of that was Hermione’s doing, in retrospect, because Ron had always seemed a little terse when they all hung out together for long periods of time. He had probably wanted more, now that Harry thought about it, because any time he really saw Ron be handsy, Hermione had always gently pushed his hand back, her smile meeting Harry’s wandering gaze. But now...why _now_ ? Something was different for Harry this time around. But he couldn’t explain it. Part of it, he was sure, was that Ron hadn’t told him anything. They had _just_ hung out, Ron coming over to Grimmauld place to play chess and drink a beer, and Ron hadn’t said anything close to pursuing Hermione again. And there were _plenty_ of opportunities to say something like that, Harry thought crossly. 

  
“But nothing. I’m perfectly capable of figuring out exactly what I wa- need. Whatever happens, I will tell you. I don’t need you breathing down my neck.” Hermione said curtly, and the food started to come in Harry’s peripheral, but he felt stunned, like he couldn’t talk or move. He always felt it when Hermione got terse with him, but it was more than that this time. _Something_ was really wrong, he felt it in his gut, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand what exactly was wrong. It couldn’t be that Hermione was with Ron, right? Why would that bother him so much? Maybe he just didn’t want to be on the outs if they settled down, flaunting what he wanted so badly. And now he didn’t have Ginny, he didn’t have _anybody._ And while that explanation sounded all well and good, something else burned in Harry’s chest, something _mean,_ and he couldn’t shake it no matter how long they talked about department gossip or cases or friends. The unrelenting grip of panic spread underneath his skin, making him feel heavy but flighty. Eventually, all he could do was watch Hermione’s mouth move and he nodded at breaks in her rant, all while his chest felt like it was compressing in on itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I fully believe that harry is a bit of a dunce with feelings, and so for my great enjoyment, he will be oblivious for a little. it's been lovely to write them even just talking together. I also think they would use a lot of endearing petnames with each other just normally, before they ever get together, especially if they are older. I hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> if you'd like to catch my art (where my hhr presence is biggest), I am on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/disgruntledwing) and [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/disgruntledwing__/). until next time! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops, long time no see! I've been super busy with exams, but I've finally got this chapter up. this was beta'd by the very helpful HourlyLawyer on FFN - thank you very much for your help :) !! definitely go on and check them out if you haven't already! 
> 
> I'll talk more at the end. on we go!

“Aguamenti!” Harry hissed irritably, not even turning to watch the jet of water quench the growing fire on the stove. 

The fire died quickly, but the smell of burnt chicken remained. Harry was cooking dinner, usually preferring to do it the Muggle way, but his normally steady hand was long gone. Grabbing the onion next to his sink, Harry started cutting slowly, exhaling tiredly. Taking it slow was better, and for the first time that night, he didn’t seem to ruin everything he touched. 

The sharp clanging of the doorbell ruined the quiet, and Harry twisted, moving towards the doorway to look at the front door warily. He wasn’t expecting anyone. There were very few people who could find the house, so he wasn’t worried about anyone truly uninvited, but he also definitely did not invite anyone over that night. Harry doubled back, placing the knife down and wandlessly cleaning his hands. Harry stalked towards the door, feeling less enthused every step to see anyone. Raven hair looked even messier than normal, sharp jaw tense, and cross emerald eyes looked out from under dark eyebrows. Harry was somewhat aware that his moods were fairly transparent, but most of the time, no one dared to call him out on it. Trying to smooth his face into something more presentable, Harry opened the door. 

At the way Hermione’s face fell at the sight of him, he must not have hidden his mood very well. 

Ron’s loud voice faltered upon seeing Harry, and Hermione’s gaze rose to take in all of Harry. “Oh! Hello, Harry. You look absolutely dreadful, darling,” Hermione mused, coming forward to touch his forehead in concern. Ron nodded in agreement, shrugging when Harry glared at him. 

“Hey, mate. Figured it’d been awhile since we all got together and thought we’d stop by!” Ron smiled, coming forward to lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, looking back at Ron scornfully. “No, you didn’t. You came over to _my_ flat, and _I_ suggested we all hang out.” Hermione turned his attention back to Harry. “You’ve been ignoring my calls all week! And Ron says you haven’t seen each other since last Tuesday. You’re in one of your moods again, aren’t you?” 

Harry scowled, crossing his arms. “My _moods_?” He echoed. “No, I am not. I’ve just been busy, that’s all.” 

Ron looked back and forth between them, confused. “Calls? How many times a week do you lot need to talk to each other? It’s all about being in person, like how _we_ hang out, right Harry? Let’s show her what us blokes do to have fun,” Ron grinned, pushing past Harry into the entryway. 

Hermione smiled after Ron, amused, and Harry’s skin started to feel a little too tight. She looked up at him, something on the tip of her tongue, before she just shook her head and squeezed his arm reassuringly. Harry watched her go, her small frame following Ron to the kitchen. Harry sighed, pushing his hair back. _Let’s play host._

\---

Harry grunted, losing again to Ron, who whooped in victory. Harry’s last chess piece died particularly dramatically, sending its last resentful glance towards Harry. Harry sighed, wishing he could pretend to blame the pieces for his losses. 

Ron’s pale face was flushed from drinking, his orange hair sticking up everywhere even though Harry was sure he hadn’t seen Ron mess with it. Crossing his legs, Harry wandlessly summoned another beer, ignoring the way Hermione frowned. 

“Doesn’t seem like your night, mate. Wanna play Exploding Snap instead?” Ron asked playfully, and Harry snorted, falling back against the couch. He stared up at the ornate ceiling, tracing the patterns to the base of the grand chandelier. His eyelids were growing heavy, his thought process a little more muddled than usual. 

“And get my arse handed to me for the twentieth time in a row? Strangely, I’ll pass this time.” Harry mumbled, his head starting to hurt. Ron chuckled, calling out for another beer to come zooming to his hands. Hermione watched Harry carefully, and Harry swiveled his head to watch her back. He had noticed her watching him in his peripheral all night, narrowly avoiding his challenging gaze. 

She was chewing on her lip, high cheekbones looking sharper in the shadows. Worried brown eyes shone under dark eyebrows, and her curly hair was pushed back into a low ponytail. As soon as she registered Harry’s pointed attention, she smoothed her face, looking a little embarrassed at being caught. Turning, she adjusted herself on the couch, and made to talk to Ron. 

“You never got to finish telling me, Ron. You said you had a big order coming? I saw your lines have taken stock in the Whizz Hard Books shop. How’d you manage to get your ever so sophisticated products in there?” 

Ron nodded, a slight flush on his cheeks. “Oh, that. Yeah, pretty wicked, huh? It was an accident, really. Got the owner’s grandkid in my shop one day, and he wanted everything. I might have pointed out a couple of things to him, some personal favorites of mine, told him they were the best out there,” Ron grinned, and Harry could picture it easily; Ron had always been excellent at making any kids wandering in the shop feel special. 

“Wasn’t expecting it at all, but that grumpy bloke, who never liked me for the record, called me up that night and asked if I’d sell any products in his shop too. Pretty soon I’ll be in every shop ‘round London!” Ron joked, but Harry could see how proud he was. 

“That’s brilliant, Ron. Honestly. I knew you and George would do well,” Harry said honestly, and Ron shrugged his shoulders bashfully. 

Hermione bobbed her head in agreement, and a respectful silence followed. Ron never liked to talk about owning the shop for too long, since he had felt a lot of hesitation about “taking Fred’s place.” Following Hogwarts, Ron had considered training to be an Auror alongside Harry, but reconsidered, wondering if it was what he truly wanted to do or if it was a sort of wish fulfillment. At first, Harry had insisted Ron continue, the thought of being an Auror alone sounding appalling, but after hearing Hermione encourage Ron to help George with the joke shop, he couldn’t deny that it sounded like something Ron would truly love doing. After several talks with Hermione and later Harry, Ron decided to start it up with George, who desperately needed the help. 

“Enough about me, let’s hear about you, ‘Mione. Heard you just wrapped up a hearing about putting away that bloody Death Eater capturing Sphinxes? I don’t know what he thought he was gonna do, trying to get those creatures to do his bidding. Hope he rots,” Ron said, his lip curled. 

Hermione nodded, looking serious. It was impressive, Harry thought, how quickly she could turn serious, a look that Harry knew was feared by many in the Wizengamot courtrooms. Her eyes would narrow in concentration, mouth moving so fast and yet slow compared to her thought process, and her frame would lean forward, as if insisting others so listen. It echoed back to days in Hogwarts, where one word Harry or Ron had said would jump Hermione into reciting whatever dense point she had read recently. There were certainly times when Harry wished he could escape her narrating, usually when she reprimanding him, but for the most part, he enjoyed seeing the transition happen right before him. 

“Indeed. It’s odd though, how much work he put into finding them, for relatively no real reward. He must have spent years trying to locate them, and even longer figuring out how to subdue them once he found them. He had upwards of fifteen sphinxes, most of which were in terrible condition when we found them. He was sentenced to Azkaban just two days ago,” Hermione said gravely. Harry remembered the mixed response Hermione had gotten over the case. While no one dared utter it in front of Harry, some believed that Hermione was misusing her powers to pursue cases exclusively concerning magical creature abuse. The truth was that Hermione dealt with many cases at a time, but she fought the hardest against the abuse of magical creatures, knowing full well that many of the wizarding world cared little for them. It was also much easier for the media to focus on only those cases, knowing those were more unpopular than her other cases; to say the least, Hermione’s swift ascension into power earned a mixed response in the Wizarding World. 

Ron leaned forward, forgetting his newly opened beer. “No wonder the bastard’s gone there already. If anyone else was on the case, he’d still be out doing who knows what to those creatures. Now that they got you, there’s no way those sick fucks aren’t going to pay for what they’ve done!” 

“Yes, well, it’s not just me of course. I’ve had a whole department who’s done some such thing to help the case, I didn’t really do all of it. I was more the spokesperson in court, honestly.” 

“Bollocks, Hermione! You’re not the brightest witch of our age for show. As if you didn’t do all that research yourself. I haven’t heard the hearing yet, but it’s on my list.” 

Hermione blinked in surprise, and Harry noticed Ron turn his body to fully face Hermione. Harry shifted uncomfortably, the interaction seeming suddenly too intimate. It felt more and more like he was watching in on _their_ hangout. 

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to listen in on it, it only got released yesterday. Thank you, Ron, but really, you needn’t do that. I know you support me,” Hermione smiled softly, placing her hand on Ron’s knee. 

“Well, I want to show it more. I’ve been tied up at the shop so much recently, but I really want to make more time to see you,” Ron said enthusiastically. Harry shifted his legs loudly, wondering if Ron had _completely_ forgotten he was there, or that he was in _Harry’s_ house, eating _Harry’s_ food, actively flirting with Hermione with him _right_ there. 

Ron glanced at him, flushing slightly. “Collective, of course. I’ve been missing both of you. What of you, Harry? When are you gonna find some bird and settle down?” Ron asked. 

Harry opened his mouth, not entirely fond of the conversation, but glad that it finally landed on him. “Well, actua -” 

“Because I _have_ been thinking an awful lot about that. Blimey, I think about it all the time now. Having little ones running around, coming home to a family, having a home again. You’ve no idea how much Mum has been at me about it. All she does is nag, nag, nag when I come ‘round, and -” 

“You are?” Hermione asked in surprise. Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to see why that seemed so significant to her. Harry would’ve thought Hermione would rather focus on her career for a while, but their recent lunch seemed like she was looking for more as well. Harry frowned. Not like he really knew any more details, since his reaction to her mention of Ron went so poorly. _I should ask her later, make up for that._

“Oh, yeah. I reckon I’ve had my bachelor time. Not like I did anything with it. Just the state of mind, you see,” Ron said with a pointed look at Hermione. Harry grimaced, feeling like he was watching Ron fumble around Hermione just like in Sixth Year. It didn’t make sense! Hermione had said she and Ron just didn’t work together. So why was Harry watching Ron flirt with her again, when clearly the decision had already been made? It was annoying to be pushed to the sidelines, knowing that neither of them had really intended to tell him about clearly anything, when Harry thought it was pretty simple. 

Ron cleared his throat. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about what I really want. It hasn’t changed much over the years. But now I understand it for what it is.” 

“And wha -” Hermione started to ask, her voice soft. 

“I almost forgot!” Harry interrupted loudly. “There is this lovely gal in my Department. Very pretty. New Auror. Her name is Deena. Definitely got me thinking about settling down as well.” 

Ron frowned after Hermione looked at Harry immediately. She looked at Harry scornfully. “What? You fancy _her_?” 

_Crisis averted._ “Oh, no, not really.” Harry answered mindlessly, trying not to feel too satisfied at having interrupted their moment successfully. He watched how Hermione leaned back from Ron, her body language pointed towards him now. _Brilliant._ Ron crossed his arms aggressively and his jaw tensed angrily. Harry tried to hide how pleased he was. 

“But you _just_ said -” Ron started irritably. 

Hermione looked at Harry strangely. “Hold on. You mean _Diana?_ ” 

Harry finally looked at Hermione, trying not to let his panic show. _Oh, bollocks._ “Er, that’s what I said. She’s in my Department and all. I don’t fancy her. She just popped in my head all of sudden, she was talking about marriage or something like that. But I am definitely interested in finding someone I do fancy.” 

Hermione looked at Harry warily, and Harry only almost regretted his interruption. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point, mate. So, you’re all done with going it alone?” Ron asked slowly, and he looked like he was thinking hard. 

Harry nodded easily. The notion got better and better every time he thought about it, and with Ron and Hermione talking about it right in front of him, it felt like there was a rush to get in there and say _me too!_

“Have you been thinking about Ginny again? I _knew_ you’d start to miss her, mate. I can’t tell you how happy Mum is gonna be! She’s gonna hug me to death!” Ron exclaimed. 

_What? Ginny?_ Harry stared at Ron in dismay, who looked more happy every second. Harry didn’t notice the way Hermione shifted awkwardly, her eyes downcast. 

“No, Ron, hold on -” Harry started, but Ron didn’t hear him. “I wondered when this would happen, and it seems like it’s perfect timing. For all of us!” Ron said excitedly, his blue eyes shining. 

Harry narrowed his eyes, feeling irrationally bothered that Ron was so happy at the idea, but he didn’t care. “Ron, that’s not at all what I want. You _know_ that,” Harry said through clenched teeth. Hermione leaned forward, her eyes narrowed, and Harry felt his stomach tighten. If Ron didn’t shut up...

Ron stood up, flushed from the alcohol and the conversation. “Harry, don’t you _see_ ? We can all do this together! This is how it was _supposed_ to be, and everything is falling in place again. We just weren’t all ready for it yet!” 

Something snapped in Harry, and he shot up instantly. His shoulders were so tense they ached, his muscles feeling like they were straining off his bones. He distantly knew what a sight he looked, body warped aggressively and his jaw hard, but he didn’t care. Ron stumbled back in surprise, still a little wobbly on his feet. 

“ _No,_ that is not what I want. I am not involving myself with Ginny again. I already _told_ you, Ron. Forget it!” Harry hissed, and he felt his magic thrum eagerly within. 

Ron shut his mouth, sitting back down. He looked like he was going to argue, but one glance up at Harry’s face, and he looked away bitterly. Harry avoided looking at Hermione, and he slowly found his spot again, his muscles relaxing slowly. The silence was almost unbearable, and Harry felt bad, but he was tired of Ron talking over him and forgetting Harry’s opinions on his _own_ love life. There were plenty of other things to talk about that didn’t involve Ginny or Ron flirting incessantly with Hermione. 

“You told _Ronald_ and you didn’t tell me?” Hermione snapped after a moment, and Harry closed his eyes tiredly. _You’ve done it this time, Harry._ At that, Ron looked sheepish, and all of the fury that rushed through Harry seemed to dissipate away, leaving him worn. 

“It’s nothing you need to -” Harry started placatingly, his hands going up. 

“Oh, worry my pretty little head over? Is that it?” Hermione spat out. She threw her arms wide, brown eyes blazing. 

Harry inhaled slowly, mind running to try and defuse the situation. “I promise you, I took care of it. We disagreed on some very fundamental things, I found, and it’s really best if it’s left in the past. Trust me.” 

“What, pray tell, did you and Ginny disagree on, that you couldn’t _possibly_ bear to tell me?” Hermione asked icily. “Why do you refuse to tell me what happened with her? Do you not trust me?” Hermione’s voice broke fractionally, and Harry’s chest ached. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, because he trusted her with his life. He knew Hermione would feel hurt, but bringing her back into that messy past would do more harm than good. 

“Of course I do, Hermione. That’s not at all what this is about, it’s about...well, it’s just different. It’s not important. If I thought it was important for you to know, I promise I would tell you,” Harry finally said, but the second he saw Hermione’s angry face again, he knew it wasn’t enough. 

“I see,” Hermione said quietly, and the silence that followed was awfully loud. Harry pulled a hand through his hair anxiously, desperate to be anywhere else. Before Ron could look away, Harry caught his gaze and he glowered at him, trying to convey how it was _his_ fault and Harry was not one to forget. Ron winced, but he looked like he was trying to find something to fill the space. 

Just before Harry was going to try and apologize again, Ron’s nervous voice filled the space. “Oh, ‘Mione, it’s nothing big. Honest.” Ron offered cheerfully, but his smile weakened when Hermione turned her withering stare towards him. Harry knew Hermione would only get more upset with Ron reminding her that Harry told him but not her, so he hoped that Ron would fix it a little better than _that_. 

“What, then, Ronald? Why don’t _you_ tell me?” Hermione hissed. 

Ron laughed uncomfortably, glancing towards Harry who shook his head furiously. “I might not even remember it quite -” 

Hermione cried out, looking like she was about to hex both of them, when Ron’s quick sputtering made her reconsider.

“T-The opposite, really. Can’t believe Harry didn’t say it, it was so funny! Let’s see. Well, Ginny just told him his cock was small. Yes, that’s it.” Ron finished with a grin, looking back and forth between them to see if it would land. The sheer hilarity of the sentence immediately made the situation more free. If it wasn’t so terrible to hear, Harry would be grateful for Ron’s talent at defusing the situation with humor, _especially_ nice when Harry had Hermione at his throat. Instead, Harry gaped, knowing _quite_ well that Ginny had thought just the opposite, but _Hermione_ didn’t know that. 

“What? That is not true -” Harry started indignantly, but Ron’s grin widened. 

Hermione laughed lowly, and Harry was so surprised that she didn’t look furious anymore to wonder what she possibly could say. “Is that how you’re supposed to turn it on me? Do you boys really think I would know nothing about something like that? That I’m just oblivious? Or too innocent?” 

Both Ron and Harry turned to look at her, heads cocked. If anything sexual was ever discussed between them, it was always very vague, and something as blatant as this was completely unknown territory. Their obvious confusion made Hermione grin darkly.

“No,” Ron started quickly, but Harry interrupted him, not wanting to hear whatever Ron had to say about that. “No, it’s just that we’ve never...well, it just doesn’t seem like you’d…” Harry trailed off, not sure how to say it correctly. It seemed too crude to associate with her, but he didn’t know how to say that without making her mad again. 

“I’ve heard my share through the grapevine _actually._ Not purposefully, of course, but the library wasn’t very quiet every time I went. Perhaps like when in Sixth Year, while I was studying for an Ancient Runes exam, I happened to overhear quite a lot about the endowments within the Quidditch locker room,” Hermione smirked, and Harry struggled to feel grateful that she wasn’t mad anymore. 

“Well, that doesn’t mean you know about -” Harry started weakly. 

“In fact, I know about _both_ of you,” Hermione ventured, a glint in her eye. “So, no, Harry. The mention of your sex life isn’t going to send me running.” Ron looked especially affronted, about to advance on Hermione, and suddenly Harry remembered the name that had been on the tip of his tongue. 

“Anastasia,” Harry breathed out, recalling one time when a fellow sixth year had walked on into the entirety of the Quidditch team showering in sixth year. She had _claimed_ she had gotten lost on the way to the women’s wing, and Harry had blocked it out in hopes nothing ever came up about it again. He knew Anastasia was a normally quiet girl, remembering seeing her at the library sometimes, but he would have hoped she wouldn’t have talked about it when anyone else was there. Much less, when Hermione was there. Hermione nodded in agreement, dangerous eyes on Harry. 

“You know _other_ -” Ron started angrily. 

“You should be used to me knowing things, Ronald,” Hermione said sweetly, but her eyes flashed. 

Ron blushed, looking embarrassed after a second. When Hermione’s challenging gaze didn’t let up, he scowled, muttering that he was off to the loo, and brushed past them to go down the hall. 

Harry watched after him, mind stuck on how Hermione could know about anything below his belt, when all of a sudden Hermione shot forward and pulled his collar down hard _._ Harry almost snapped his back leaning down, and he blinked, seeing Hermione so close up. His eyes burned to wander, because _when was the last time they had been this close?,_ but he met her intense gaze. He could feel strands of her hair tickling his face, and his glasses slid down on the tip of nose from the sudden movement. Dark brown eyes looked almost black under the shadow of Harry’s head, but the barest glimmer of gold specks lined her eyes. She was very scary when she was angry, but she was terrifying just centimeters away, and Harry’s mouth went dry. 

“ _If you think that you’re going to keep things from me when I have done everything for you, you have another thing coming, Harry James Potter. I am going to hear about it, and I am going to hear about it from your infuriating mouth,_ ” Hermione whispered heatedly, and the puffs of air from her mouth were hot on his face. 

The words rattled around in Harry’s brain, but he couldn’t find much meaning from them, because every sensation seemed to be heightened tenfold, and the feeling of her fingers brushing his neck made his heart pound. It was hard not to think about how her breath smelled good, or that her nails on his neck almost made him shiver, or that her lips were fuller up close. Suddenly, as quick as she had grabbed him, she let go of him, standing up to go to the kitchen without looking back. 

Harry stood there dumbly, his collar crooked and his glasses skewed, every thought a blur. It was difficult to breathe, all his blood seemed keen on leaving his head, and he found it difficult to focus on anything in front of him. Ron came back into the room after a minute, his blue eyes starting to look tired. He glanced at Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder, completely oblivious to Harry’s state. 

“My bad, mate. I shouldn’t have mentioned you and Gin in front of ‘Mione. Still think you should think about it. I don’t think you really know what you want, because you’re much too quick to leave Ginny out,” Ron paused. “Should have known though. I can’t get anything past that bloody woman,” Ron grinned affectionately, tilting his head towards Hermione in the kitchen. 

Harry scowled. _Again_ with the parameters Ron seemed fixed to rely on. Harry wasn’t with Ginny anymore, and it also didn’t mean Ron should be with Hermione again just to all “be together.” But no matter what Harry had said, Ron never seemed to fully believe him. Ron hadn’t insisted Harry was wrong when Harry ended things with Ginny, but he definitely didn’t seem to believe Harry was acting rationally. It was nice, Harry supposed, that Ron technically supported his decision, but he wasn’t sure it was totally worth Ron thinking Harry had no idea what he really wanted. It felt patronizing, like Ron thought he was some toddler that would eventually get over whatever tantrum he had and decide Ginny was “the one” again. 

“I would think you would trust me when I say I know what I want,” Harry snapped, eyes following Ron’s to watch Hermione cleaning up in the kitchen. 

“A lot of times, Harry, my best mate, what you want is right in front of you. Even if you cock it up, you still have to try. I know that better than anyone. You’ll see, mate. Maybe you’ll come around to Gin again,” Ron said warmly, pulling Harry tighter. Harry looked back at him irritably, but Ron’s blue eyes fixed on Hermione. 

All Harry could think about was that he didn’t want Hermione and Ron to get back together. But that wasn’t really something to say out loud, and he still wasn’t really sure _why._ Ron had his shortcomings, but more than made up for them in the end, or at least tried to. He was kind, always supportive, could make Harry laugh till his sides ached, and was the strongest sense of free joy Harry had in his life. But in that moment, watching Ron look after Hermione, all Harry felt was an ugly fury. 

“Here, ‘Mione, let me help you in there,” Ron called out, heading over to the kitchen while Harry watched stonily, as Hermione nodded gratefully. Irritated, Harry righted his collar and glasses, and began cleaning up the living room. He vainly tried to ignore their happy voices in the other room, not sure he would be able to conveniently break them up twice in one night. 

Harry moved silently, objects whizzing through the air around him, almost done with cleaning, when Hermione walked up behind him. Harry shuffled, making room for her, and noticed that she looked much more agreeable. _Probably that git making her laugh. All I did was make her upset._ Harry’s scowl deepened. 

Hermione’s warm hand ran up his back, fingers moving rhythmically, and Harry hated how badly he wanted to lean back into it. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how much wandless magic you can do,” Hermione said honestly. 

Harry straightened, his mood suddenly improving. “You can do it, too. I’m not special,” Harry said, but it was always nice to feel special when Hermione said it. 

“I can do some. But not like you,” Hermione finally said, and she squeezed his bicep affectionately. Harry felt thrashed every which way emotionally, and while it was nice to have Hermione in a better mood, he knew her hurt wasn’t gone by any means. Her temper was quick and fiery, but she never forgot. Harry had always tried to respect that. 

“If I can do it, you can do it and more. I fully believe that,” Harry said quietly, turning away because the admission felt so charged all of a sudden, _everything_ felt so charged all of a sudden. And it was so stupid, because he had talked to Hermione a billion times, but now each word felt so special, so _limited_ , like he was being gifted something and if he wasn’t careful it would slip away. 

Hermione smiled softly, but her eyes looked sad. “You’re too sweet for your own good.” 

Harry tried to smile, but he couldn’t tell if that meant what he said was good or it was too much, girls were so damn confusing. Well, that wasn't right, because _this_ girl had never been confusing to him, but now she was more confusing than any girl he could think of. 

Ten minutes later, when all the food had been put away and the games packed, they stood in Harry’s entryway. Hermione had grabbed her coat, and Ron stood very close next to her, reminiscent of when they were dating. Ron stumbled a little, and Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist to stabilize him. Harry hunched his shoulders. Ron chuckled mindlessly, pulling Hermione closer. Harry felt cast off, like he was falling further and further away from them and they hadn’t even thought to give him a second glance. Harry busied himself by looking up the walls, eyes following the black decorations up the ceiling, waiting for his best friends to come back to earth before he had to hate them. 

“Well, we should probably get going. I’ll have Ron side-apparate with me so he doesn’t splinch himself all over your hallway, then I’ll drop him off. It was nice to see you, love,” Hermione said, breaking Ron’s embrace to kiss Harry on the cheek. 

“Oh...yes, of course. Anytime,” Harry said quickly, and Ron moved forward to clap Harry on the back. “Thanks, mate. Let’s do something again soon.” 

“Let’s _all_ do something,” Hermione said firmly. She missed how both Harry and Ron’s faces fell minutely in disappointment. 

Ron moved back, hands falling on Hermione’s thin shoulders, his large boot tripping over her small foot. His long legs splayed weirdly, and before Harry could try and secure him, Ron clumsily grabbed onto Hermione’s shirt. Hermione stepped back in surprise, but Ron’s hand tightened, trying to stabilize. His hold on her shirt revealed a glimpse of black lace for barely a second. Harry inhaled sharply, wishing he could look away, _willing_ himself to look away, but it was too fast, and the image blazed itself in his mind. Hermione glared at Ron, pulling her shirt back up, and Ron blushed. 

“ _Ronald!_ Watch your brutish hands,” Hermione hissed, but she looked more annoyed than angry. 

“I’m sorry! Although, it’s not something I haven’t seen before…” Ron said teasingly. Harry bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, his jaw tensing so hard his ears ached. _Don’t move._ He imagined his feet were made of heavy stone, rooting him to the spot, preventing him from pushing past Hermione and grabbing Ron by the goddamn collar and…

“Have even a _little_ decency. Even the pretense of it would be welcome sometimes. Honestly!” Hermione snapped, but she still grabbed Ron’s hand. Ron grinned sheepishly, his blue eyes dancing, not seeing Harry’s acid stare. With an exasperated nod to Harry, Hermione disapparated with Ron, the loud crack sounding in Harry’s ears. 

The silence after their exit was deafening. Harry could feel his body stirring and he tried to ignore it. But that could only last for so long when the image repeated itself again and again in his mind, the smallest hint of black lace against soft skin teasing him. Harry looked down, finally acknowledging his growing erection through his slacks. 

“ _Bloody hell_ ,” Harry whispered to the empty hallway. The shame that burned under his skin did nothing to lessen his arousal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you liked that chapter! this story is growing a lot in my head, so I'm trying to take my time and make it flow. I have a lot on my plate w school and art, but I really want to try and make this fic worthwhile! I'll be doing a hhr Valentine's Day art piece on my [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/disgruntledwing__/) and my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/disgruntledwing), pretty soon if you're interested in that at all ;) I'd love to hear your thoughts on this fic as always, but I am happy to just write at all 🤍


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